


The Complexities of Being Good

by sydwtr



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Incest, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-14 01:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydwtr/pseuds/sydwtr
Summary: Vax used to be good. Now he doesn't even try to be good enough.





	The Complexities of Being Good

He used to be good, once. He used to hear glowing praise and see bright smiles and know that he was _good_. He helped, he took care, he did what was asked of him.

At eleven, Vax learns the difference between _good_ and _good enough_. He can still be _good_ , he can still help, take care, do what’s asked of him… but it’s no longer _good enough_. He learns the difference from the hand that catches his arm and squeezes enough to indent finger marks into his skin, sensitive and purple the next day, and the voice that whispers _wipe that look off your face_ and _just be good_.

It doesn’t take long for him to stop trying for _good enough_ and it doesn’t take long after that for _good_ to no longer matter, either. He sneaks out of the house and causes a ruckus and hisses _go fuck yourself_ to almost everyone who tries to stop him, that word, that forbidden word, that _bad word_ building up around him like a shield. _Fuck you_ and _fuck that_ and _fuck off_ like if he says it enough, he won’t feel the blows of an open palm against his backside.

It works, in a way. He no longer feels the open palm because Syldor switches to a belt.

Even that, however, he builds a shield against. He tells himself that he’ll leave one day and not come back--as soon as Vex is ready. He tells himself that it’s better for this to happen to him than to her. He restructures being _good_ , not helping or taking care or doing what’s asked of him, but protecting his sister from being put into his place. For her he’ll kill, for her he’ll die, and for her he’ll flinch and whimper as the hard leather of the belt raises welts on his skin through his trousers, even when it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He puts on another layer of armor in the form of _I hate you_ spilling from his lips to replace the tears that won’t fall from his eyes for that man. Vax grips the edge of the desk, bent forward in the only obedience he still expresses, and whispers _you’re a monster_ as the belt cracks against the backs of his thighs.

He doesn’t flinch on the first hit, nor the second, nor the third.

Even when he’s being punished for being _bad_ , he isn’t _good enough_.

The hands at his hips startle him, yank him forcefully out of the retreat into his mind he usually takes during punishment as they yank his trousers and smalls down. Bare, exposed to the chilly room, he tries to turn to look over his shoulder, to demand what the _fuck_ is going on here--

Syldor’s hand grips the back of his neck and keeps his head still as the man’s hips press to his ass and pin him against the desk. He leans in, lover-close, and whispers in Vax’s ear the words that make him go cold as ice and hot as fire all at once.

“ _Maybe you’d rather watch me do this to her._ ”

“Don’t you _fucking_ dare touch her! Don’t--” His face slams into the desk, blood welling in his nose and his teeth almost biting through his tongue. And then he feels it, and all the hot rage drops out of his stomach in a dizzying second as cold fear sends his heart hammering into his throat.

Legs keep him trapped and the hand keeps him bent forward and the fear keeps him still as Syldor slowly grinds his clothed hips against Vax’s bared skin. He bites his lip until he breaks the skin and digs in harder, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides as he tries not to react, as he tries not to give this fucker what he wants. No crying. No whimpering. Absolutely no begging for it to stop.

There’s a grunt of effort, a hand that barely brushes against him as it moves, and then the feeling of hot flesh on his. Vax squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that spring to them, digs his nails into his palms and tries to think about the little crescent moons of blood that he’ll see later, so he doesn’t have to think about the unsteady, jerky motions behind him. So he doesn’t have to feel the slide of it against him.

He almost manages to block it out, he almost manages to endure. But even here, he’s not _good enough_. Something hot and wet hits his bare skin as Syldor grunts above him again and Vax’s resolve crumples. He sobs against the smooth, gleaming wood of the desk, begs to be forgiven, promises to never do it again. Even when the pressure holding him down is no longer there, he stays where he is, sniffling and whimpering, until a hand slaps against the bare back of his thigh.

“Get out of here. Go clean yourself up.”

There’s something worse about it being _inside_ his smalls, cooling on his skin and making the fabric stick to him. He goes to his bath, peels his soiled clothes off as he heats the bath water to nearly boiling. The thought of wearing them again makes him gag and he tosses the whole outfit into the incinerator without a second thought, submerges himself into the steaming water and desperately tries to scrub the feeling off his skin. He ducks his head under the water and stays down until his lungs are screaming for air, comes up red-faced and panting and he can still hear the grunt above him.

Vax finally drags himself from the water as it grows cold, as he begins to shiver and feel gooseflesh rise on his arms and legs. He towels off and dresses (not in clothes from this house, not in clothes from _that man_ , not ever again, he swears it to every god and goddess out there whether they’re listening or not), sneaks on light feet to his sister’s room. He shakes Vex gently awake, knows that his face is giving too much away just from the look in her eyes.

“We’re leaving. Tonight. Get your things.”

He can’t go down to breakfast and act like nothing out of the ordinary happened in that office. If he ever sees Syldor again, he’ll cut the bastard's throat and he knows it.

Fifteen and out against the world isn’t the greatest situation to be in, but they have each other, and that…

Well, that’s _good enough_.


End file.
